Sexually Active Rainbows
by redwalgrl-RG
Summary: After the death of Hughes, Roy finds himself turning to a new source of physical comfort: Frank Archer. But physical comfort has a nasty tendency to become something more than just that.
1. The Meeting

**Sexually Active Rainbows**

**Chapter One: ****The Meeting**

_Alright, this idea has been bothering me for awhile. This __fanfiction__ is entirely based off of two __roleplays__ between __**LimeshellsAreLazy**__, and me, __**redwalgrl**__**-RG**__. It should be __fun,__ I've been interested in writing this for sometime now._

_**Rating: R—I'm including the **__**yaoi**__** goodness**_

_**Genre(s): Romance/Drama (I swear, it's like a soap opera! XD)**_

_**Original Characters: Um… I don't believe so. If there are, I will warn you.**_

_**Out of **__**Characterness**__**: Well… **__**uke**__**!Archer**__** can't be in character with BONES' Archer. So sue me.**_

**_DISCLAIMER: REDD DOESN'T OWN THE CHARACTERS. Though she might as well own uke!Archer since she's one of the only people who likes him uke-ing… This idea is shared between her and LimeshellsAreLazy_**

_Enjoy._

_-+-_

"Sir? You have a phone call from the city morgue and—"

"Tell them I'm not here." Roy mumbled, not looking up from his paperwork. He wouldn't have it, not another word of it. If he had to do anything else associated with Maes' death he'd...he'd… He just wasn't going to have it. He didn't care that Riza grumbled and slammed his office door. She thought she knew what pain was? "You have no fucking idea," He hissed, scribbling more or less nonsense on another very important document. So what? He didn't care. Maes' death weighed heavy on his mind. That was more important. He sighed, crumbling it up, and starting over. The past week had been hell. He hadn't slept more then two or three hours a night. He had lost fourteen pounds. His dreams, as little as he had, were flooded with nightmares upon nightmares. He should have been there. He should have done something.

And now he couldn't bring himself to do anything. It had been up to him to announce to Gracia and Elysia of Maes' death. He had identified the body. He had been to the funeral. And still people just wouldn't leave him alone about it. He just wanted it all to end, to burry himself in a hole and never come out. His Maes was dead and gone.

But today, as much as he would have liked to call in sick, he had to be there. And he was indeed sick, looking as pale and frail as he did. His already slanted eyes were red and glassed. He didn't care at this point if people knew he cried, at least among his office lackeys. Now a new addition was being added, with Maes gone. Who was it? All he knew, or cared to really hear, was that it was another Lieutenant Colonel. Perfect, just what he needed. "Fuck it!" He snapped, tossing his papers aside and puling out his flask, taking another drink. How many times had he had to refill it that day? _Let this be my last drink,_ He thought, leaning back into his chair miserably.

-+-

The newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer glanced around. The office was nothing like the one he'd previously been working in. For one, there was a little puppy dog running around and scaring the shit out of one of the workers. The only woman in the office had a gun prominently displayed on her desk. There was a very young looking man working on some sort of machine at his desk, and a chain smoker next to him.

Needless to say, Frank Archer figured that this was a new level of hell.

But at least he'd been promoted. So what if Hughes had to die? It was about damn time he got a promotion! After getting brief instructions, he was ordered to be working here now. And seeing the only empty desk in the room, dropped his supplies down on it and displayed the golden tag; Lieutenant Colonel Archer.

It certainly made him antsy to be so close to the boss' door. He'd heard rumors about Roy Mustang. Terrible rumors. That he was a womanizer, that he never did his paperwork, that he could burn anyone who refused to do what he said. That power... It was something Archer craved, and something he knew he couldn't have. With a sigh, he pulled out the paperwork that he was supposed to be reviewing and got started on it. No sense in wasting time, was there?

-+-

There was just no way to get it done. That paper work seemed to give him the evil eye, taunting him and his inability. Sighing Roy placed it all in a file, and then into his brief case. May as well do it at home. He groaned, realizing what day it was. Tuesday. Tuesdays had always been the worst work days, which lead Roy and Maes to establish a little after work meeting. They'd go over to his apartment and have a few drinks. Since Wednesdays were so slow it didn't matter if he came to work hung over. He had been hung over all week, and now he'd be drinking alone. Again.

"You? You're Frank Archer?" he asked wearily, looking at his file before the man. He seemed older then Roy, yet had a young face. It was his hair no doubt, and unnatural silver. Not entirely bad, not entirely wonderful either. It was unique. Yes, that was the right word. "I'm Roy Mustang, currently in charge of this station." He sighed, knowing it wasn't as professional sounding as he had hoped. This man just lingered with experience. And a bitter coldness that he couldn't quiet place.

Archer had been about to answer his new boss when the phone rang and Roy rushed back into the office. He shrugged to himself and continued on with his paperwork, figuring that Roy would come back to continue the introduction.

"Yes? Hm...I have to pick it up? Now...? Alright...goodbye." Roy hung up, pissed. "God dammit! Can't someone else handle this shit?!" He snapped, loud enough for his subordinates to hear outside the door. Apparently the morgue had more paperwork for him to sign. just wonderful. He stormed out and stopped by Archer's desk, considering. And then, " You, Archer. Come with me." It wasn't a question.

"Sir?" Archer asked, immediately masking any confusion he had. Why the hell was Roy bringing him along? This wasn't official military work was it? No, probably not. He held back a sigh and stood up, glancing around before quickly following Roy.

He had to get to know this man, this Lieutenant Colonel. It just wasn't fair, how all this was pushed onto Roy. Well, he knew he couldn't pass it all off to Gracia, she had enough to deal with as it was. But still… Roy was seriously considering exploding the next large mass of sulfur that walked by. He groaned, realizing that even thinking that made him sound like the now-dead Crimson Alchemist. "Well, come on!"

Archer quickly snapped a salute as he was addressed and joined Roy as his superior unlocked a standard, military-issued vehicle. The military issued a lot, come to think of it. Well, Archer didn't have a lot of time to think about it, he was immediately in the car and praying that Roy wouldn't be driving like a madman. He pretty much was a madman as it was. Though now he was in a better position to get a look at his superior officer. Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, and a Colonel, looked broken. That was really the only way to say it. Croppy raven-black hair and equally dark eyes, red-rimmed from crying apparently. Archer was curious. Did Maes Hughes really mean so much to Roy?

"Tell me, Frank Archer, do you enjoy serving for King Bradley?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but Roy had a method to his madness. He was curious, was this Frank Archer another ass-kisser? Roy's subordinates weren't—they served him and him alone. They weren't there just to move up through the ranks. They were there to support him. He knew he should have been grateful, but still… He managed to catch a glimpse of the other man, which caused a frown to crease the Flame Alchemist's face. He wasn't entirely unattractive, this Lieutenant Colonel. He wasn't unattractive at all. Though his skin was unnatural pale; a soft snow white that contrasted with his icy blue eyes nicely. His skin looked soft, very soft. Why could only women have so soft skin? Always soaked in perfume and lotions, it sickened him. It seemed no women could satisfy him anymore. Or maybe he was just picky. Always saying something (though he didn't know just what) was wrong about whatever interest he had. So he wouldn't have to get committed.

_Do I enjoy serving Fuhrer Bradley?_ What a stupid question. Was Mustang seriously unaware of how dedicated Archer was? Did he really not know about Archer's goal to get to the top? "Of course. I live to serve." He was an ass-kisser, a pencil-pusher, and he really didn't care. It was the way he was, and it was the way he was going to be. He'd make it to the top. And with Roy broken like this, it wouldn't be that hard.

Roy stopped the car and made his way out, waiting for Archer before locking it back and jamming his keys in his pockets. "This won't take long." He started toward the building, glancing sidelong at his shorter subordinate. "So, what did you do in your current position Archer? Are you an alchemist?" He had to know more about this man. After all, he was this man's boss.

"I'm just your standard pencil-pusher." Archer snapped back stiffly, though there was no malice in his voice. Just apathy. That's what he was, Apathetic Archer. He just didn't care. He never did. Though Roy had touched on a sore spot—the fact that he wasn't an alchemist. He didn't want to think about it, really. His entire family—the men of the Archer line—had all been State Alchemists. He just couldn't do it. Which made him a failure in his father's eyes. But that wasn't something he wanted to relive.

"Mm." Roy nodded absently, instructing Archer to wait outside as he hurried in. About ten minutes later he came back, arms full with paperwork. It was always paperwork, wasn't it?! "It's for Lieu—Brigadier General Hughes. His wife just couldn't handle all this…" He sighed, starting back toward the car and managing to get his keys out of his pocket without upending all the papers.

"Really, sir? That's kind of you." But it was stated emotionlessly. Archer really didn't care. He'd gotten this promotion because Hughes had died. So what? In all honesty, he didn't care for Hughes. And if it had to be this way so he could get to the top, then so be it. He'd already stepped on others' heads to get here. He wasn't going to quit now.

Once Roy managed to unlock the car and load the papers in the back, he got in and tried to start it. The engine made a strange sputtering sound before dying. "Piece of crap!!" Roy cussed, getting out again and looking at the engine. He knew nothing about cars. Dammit, he'd have to get it towed! He groaned again and snatched the papers, explaining, "Come on, we'll just go wait at my house until one of my subordinates can come pick us up."

"Your house, sir?" Archer asked, following him, glancing back at the car. Leave it to Roy Mustang to forget about his car. Ugh.

"Yes, my house." _What is he, a fucking parrot?_ "It's not even a block away."

_Then why the hell couldn't you wait until you got home to go get this paperwork?_ Archer thought savagely, but no change in expression.

They made it to Roy's apartment a good five minutes later, Roy tossing the papers down on the littered coffee table. "Take a seat. You want anything?"

_We're only going to be here for a little while._ Archer mentally groaned, instead sitting down apprehensively, like the couch would eat him or something. Well, it was more or less because he hadn't been told 'at ease, Lieutenant' yet. "No, thank you."

"You sure?" Roy called from the kitchen, locating a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Maybe provoking a challenge would work? "One beer isn't gonna kill you."

"No thank you, I don't drink." Archer responded icily, glancing down at his pristinely cut nails. He would never drink again. It was disgusting. He'd gotten drunk once, it was horrible. He vowed never to let it happen to him again.

Roy downed a bottle and then located another. His refrigerator was always stocked full of beer. And he'd been drinking at work, so of course he was planning on getting shit-faced drunk. He stumbled back into the room, almost tripping over some scattered pens and managing to land on the couch without spilling his beer. Now sitting practically on top of his Lieutenant Colonel, Roy remarked, "You don't get out much do ya? Ya skin, its awfully pale, its nice though, yeah. Nice. You're Amestrian?"

"…" Archer glanced up, letting a flicker of disgust cross his face. "Sir, you're drunk." He managed to slip out from under Roy and hold back a groan. "I suggest you wait here until your drunken state wears off. Then call Central and have someone pick you up." He'd just walk back. Why not, it was good exercise anyway.

"Ooh Frankie, you think I'm drunk?"

_No shit._ And Archer was tempted to hit him for using that horrid nickname.

"You know, you're not going back to th' office…" Roy sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. He wasn't even talking to Archer anymore. No. Archer would suffice, he would replace the physical being that Roy craved; Maes.

"What the hell do you mean?" Archer asked, letting rank drop for a moment. "Of course I'm going back. I'm—"

"Let's stop playin' around 'ready." Roy cut him off and continued, "I know you've wanted me from the start…" He pulled Archer back by the waist, leaning over and biting down playfully on his neck.

Archer made a surprised and rather strangled gasping sound. "Wh-what the hell do you think you're doing, sir?!"

"You know the fastest way to get a promotion, don't you?" He purred, his hand trailing down past the other's waistband. "You'd do anythin' to get to the top, wouldn't you?" Roy smiled, knowing that to be the truth, and began to play with Archer.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Archer didn't even get a chance to reprimand Roy for such behavior before the other's hand was down in his pants, Archer's eyes widening at the definitely unwanted contact. "Sir…!"

"I think you know...what I have in mind."


	2. Disagreements

**Sexually Active Rainbows**

**Chapter Two: Disagreements**

And you thought I wouldn't update this! Well, I've only gotten a review from LimeshellsAreLazy, my love uke, but I really don't mind. Might as well keep this up—I do love this roleplay to death. Might as well make the fic as good! Though this chapter actually deviates from the roleplay, just because I felt we needed to spend more time here.

Enjoy.

-+-

"S-sir, you can't," Archer pressed both hands to Roy's shoulders, icy eyes wide with what could only be described as terror. "Th-this is fucking rape!"

"Rape?" Roy questioned, tilting his head like he really didn't understand Archer's words. He was drunk, but he wasn't stupid. Well, not much stupider than usual. But this… this ran far deeper than a drunken molestation. If he left… "No, no, you can't rape the willing." His hand trailed back down, earning a moan from the other, while his free hand moved up to gently stroke across a high, prominent cheekbone.

Damn sexual urges! Archer didn't want this! He _didn't_! But he knew his body wasn't telling him that. How long had it been? Hell, he didn't know. And this… Roy was offering him a way to the top. He'd do anything for a way to the top. Anything. _But not this! Fraternization! __If we get caught…_ If.

"Frank… you're so hard. You can't… can't pretend like ya' don't want this." Roy murmured, a soft slurring rhythm, trailing his hand down to cup Archer's sharp chin. "Stay," He couldn't even look into Archer's eyes anymore. "Please?" He leaned forward, clumsily taking Archer's lips.

_It's not an order._ That's all that went through his rather blanked mind as Roy kissed him, as he allowed it. He hadn't pulled back yet. He should. He had to. He couldn't let this happen. He wouldn't let this happen! And yet he let Roy part his lips; tongues clashing in a broken melody of passionate desire. It was wrong. So damn wrong. But it felt so _right_. And that's what scared him beyond belief, that he was willing to accept this. _It's just once. __One time.__ Never again… and once it's over with, we'll never even talk about it. It'll be like it never happened. What's the worst that could happen?_ So with that backwards logic, he carefully wrapped his arms around Roy's neck, pulling the other close.

_That's much better._ Roy moaned softly through the kiss, slowly moving his other hand back downward and trailing it over the other's still-uniformed chest. Damn uniforms! He abruptly stopped the kiss, pulling back enough to work on those buttons clumsily. He usually disrobed drunk, though if there was a correlation between the two, he wouldn't say. "Mn…" He growled softly at the buttons, finally managing to get that damned jacket undone and growling at the next challenge, a button-up white shirt. More buttons!

Archer slowly loosed his arms from around Roy's neck, undoing the buttons on his shirt and removing both jacket and shirt together. He would have folded them, but it wasn't like he was going to get time for that. So he shrugged them off onto the floor—something he'd never do, and glanced up at Roy. Did he want this? Did he really want this?

The Flame Alchemist attacked the exposed flesh of Archer's neck and shoulders with teeth and lips, gnawing and nipping, making sure to only go up as far as the uniform's collar would cover. They couldn't let this be seen—even shit-faced Roy knew that. So he kept trailing the kisses downward until he met with the belt of Archer's waistcoat. That was quickly discarded. "Wait… not 'ere."

"What?" Archer asked, unsure of what Roy meant, slipping out of his shoes as well, frowning as Roy started off. He hesitated only a moment before following. What the hell was he getting himself into? Why was he giving into desire? He knew better! But he wanted it.

Roy reached his room and immediately started tearing at his own jacket, noticing a button flying off in the back corners of his mind. Oh well. He'd find it later and get Riza to sew it back on. His shirt was removed, followed by pants and boxers, shoes and socks. Now nude and fully erect, he pulled Archer to him, sliding his hands back down past Archer's waistband again. Archer wasn't Hughes. Archer would never be his Maes. But he would do. He would replace the physical need that Roy had.

Archer moaned softly, almost afraid someone would hear them. How thick were these walls? What if someone on the other side of Roy's apartment heard? He finally slipped out of Roy's grasp, disposing of his pants and boxers, though not socks, and pulling Roy back down into a kiss. He wasn't doing this because it was Roy. This was for base, animalistic need. Even Archer had it. He needed to fulfill it.

"You've… never been wit' a man, 'ave yah?" Roy slurred again, shoving Archer down onto the bed, bedsprings squealing in protest.

"N-no. I haven't." Archer murmured, looking up at Roy. It was going to hurt. He wasn't stupid. Why the hell was he doing this?! Why did he do this to himself? Was he really so masochistic?

"Tha's a'right… virgins're the best." The other man laughed, nudging Archer's pale legs apart (and he'd thought Archer was pale before?) and squatting between them, eyeing the other's erection, as if he'd never seen someone else's before. He seemed to be thinking about what to do, before a light snapped in the back of his eyes and he leaned down.

"What are you—?" Archer was cut off as Roy's hot, warm, _tight_ mouth surrounded his cock, those lips and tongue moving with the skill of a novice. It was still heaven to someone who hadn't even gotten an erection in months. "F-fuck…"

Roy smirked up at the other man, eyes closed tight and a small pained expression on his face. It briefly crossed Roy's mind; _Why__ is he agreeing to this?_ But it quickly faded. He didn't care why Archer was doing this. Roy just had to pretend it was Maes. His dear Maes… the only man he'd ever love. He sat up slightly, still a little lop-sided vision-wise, and then let go of Archer altogether.

"The fuck you think you're doing!?" Archer hissed, glaring venomous daggers at Roy. Just when it was getting good—and the bastard stopped?! "What the hell are you waiting for?"

"Lube."

That one simple word said it all. Roy really was going to fuck him. Roy was going to fuck him dry?! "Hey, wait!" Archer immediately grabbed hold of Roy's forearms, icy eyes meeting onyx. "D-don't you dare fuck me dry!" He wanted this—yes, but he didn't want it to hurt _that_ badly!

Roy leaned over and silenced any further complaints with a long, hard kiss, dominating forcefully, and clumsily, again. Of course he'd dominate. Archer had no real interest in dominating the kiss. But Roy didn't have any lubricant. What would he do? It finally snapped into place and he drew back, sucking loudly on three of his fingers before spreading Archer's legs again.

Saliva?! Archer was almost tempted to smack Roy right then and there. He was not about to have those fingers jammed up his ass, was he?!

Too late—Roy shoved two fingers past that lovely tight ring of muscle, groaning as he felt Archer clench around his fingers. It didn't seem to occur to him that this would hurt the other. No, did it really matter if it did? Who would know? Who would care if Apathetic Archer was limping around the office? No one. That's who.

Why the hell were men gay?! This wasn't fun or pleasurable or whatever the hell else they'd call it! This was torture! It hurt!! He writhed around for a few moments before finally resting his hands on Roy's shoulders, nails digging hard into flesh. "Stop!"

And for some reason, Roy felt compelled to obey. He pulled his fingers back quickly and just hovered over Archer tentatively, watching the other's unsteady breathing. "Why?"

"It fucking hurts!" Archer immediately snapped, glaring up at Roy. Dammit, it really had hurt! He was tearing up—and those were just Roy's fingers! He didn't want to see how big Roy was fully erect. He really didn't. Because he'd have to take _that thing_ to the damn hilt if Roy had his way. "Please." He finally managed to add, pulling his nails from Roy's shoulder, leaving eight little marks.

"But…" All the time he'd dreamt about it, Maes had loved it. He'd screamed _"__More __more__! Please!"_ not _"Stop!"_ Why was Archer so different? It just wasn't possible that Archer would be a different person from Hughes—not now at least. Not under him, not during sex.

Archer finally fell back against the sheets, tilting his head to let the cold pillow grace his cheek. "This is wrong, sir. It's fraternization with another male officer. This crime is punishable by death. We can't do such a stupid risky thing. And honestly, I don't want to be limping around the office for the next week and a half." Or more. Probably more. "Don't you see? I just don't want it."

Roy started trailing his hand down only to get it slapped away, sitting back on his knees and cradling said hand to his chest irritably. "Fuckin' fine! You'll be back!"

"I doubt that." Archer hissed in return, forcing himself to get up and dressed. He wouldn't return back to work, he'd call in sick or something. He couldn't go back. Not right now. And no, that wasn't just because he still had a lovely hard on. Ugh. Pants, boxers, shoes, and then back downstairs for shirt and uniform jacket, then Archer was out the door and off toward home, still irritable. He didn't want it. He never would. "I don't fucking need any physical contact." He grumbled to himself, balling his hands up into fists, nails to the flesh of his palms. "I haven't needed any physical contact for years! Why the hell would I need it now?!" But he really couldn't deny it anymore, he _wanted_ it.

-+-

Roy groaned, falling face first in the pillows. _Way to mess up, smartass._ He sighed and shifted a little, before drifting off to sleep. So what, he'd get that ass one day. Archer really wouldn't be able to resist for long. Hell, everyone had sexual urges. And he'd get them fulfilled one way. Through Roy.

…Unless he found a whore or something. Ugh. Shit. Roy groaned again and rolled over onto his back. Tomorrow was going to be hell.


	3. Physical

**Sexually Active Rainbows**

**Chapter Three:**** Physical**

Because there just isn't enough RoyArcher. And yes, no matter what you think—this is my pairing. Well, half of it's mine.

I still own nothing, except half the story. Eh. Whatever.

-+-

Time passed, as it always will, and a week later things were still just as tense and strained between the two officers. The Flame Alchemist couldn't keep his eyes off his new Lieutenant. But it wasn't anything other than lust. Pure unbridled lust. He wanted that Lieutenant Colonel—but he didn't want him for anything other than human comfort. It wasn't that Roy didn't want to get close to his subordinates, it was that if he did, they'd leave. They'd die. Something bad would happen. But if he got close to Archer… he wouldn't care. It was perfect.

On the other end of the spectrum was Archer, who pointedly ignored Roy. He could get away with it, being the asshole he was anyway. His icy eyes were fixed on the current report, pen cap between his teeth. It was a little habit he'd picked up from that damn Crimson Alchemist back in Ishbal. Contrary to popular belief, he had been there. Just for about a year—he'd been injured in a raid and had a lovely scar running from shoulder to elbow on his left arm. Nothing ever came from that; he had no problems with his arm. But he was still nursing a bruised ego. Maybe that was why he felt he had to step on everyone to get to the top. Or something like that.

Roy glanced out the window again, watching those pale fingers trail up and down the pen, watching as Archer's expression slowly changed to one of disgust. He had memorized the man's every move—a week of watching would do that to you. It was Friday. It was late in the day. No one would know. "Lieutenant Colonel, I need to speak with you."

Archer's eyes snapped up, hearing those dreaded words. It wasn't that he didn't like Roy. He didn't really, but that wasn't the point. He got up, setting the pen down and saluted to Roy as he entered the room. What else was he supposed to do? What did Roy want? They'd avoided each other for a week. He thought it was over. Roy wasn't going to try anything on him, was he?

With a sharp _snap_ the door was shut and Roy just stood staring at Archer. The way the other was standing, arms crossed and looking rather irritated… it was all too obvious he was nervous. "What, scared of me, Frank?"

"You were drunk, sir. Nothing came from it. Nothing will come from it." Archer stated coldly, sounding more sure of himself than he really was. He didn't want anything to come from it. If anything, their relationship would have been purely physical. Archer didn't have time to worry about something as stupid and demanding as _love_. He had to worry about his rank, moving up, taking control…

"Is that what you really want?" Roy's words were soft, and not just because they were in his office, not far from his lackeys. "Do you really want to live out your life alone?"

"What are you saying?" Archer snapped. Roy knew nothing about him. _Nothing!_ Who was he to judge?

Roy shrugged slightly, taking a step closer to Archer and noticing that the other took a step back. "You're not scared of me, huh? What, are you afraid I'll rape you?"

"I wouldn't put it past you, sir."

"That's not very nice." Roy mused, watching the other, just as wary. "You don't want anything from me? You don't want a relationship at all? Just physical? Listen…" He sighed, sitting down at his desk and indicating the chair in front of it for Archer. "You see, I can't have a relationship with someone close to me. I just… I can't. It's too soon, y'know?" No, he wouldn't.

"Yes, I do." Archer mused softly, glancing down at his hands. Perfectly pale; only three visible blue veins. Two on the back of his left, one on his right hand. He'd always noticed little details, it was just the perfectionist in him. "Sir, I know exactly what you mean."

That wasn't what Roy had thought he'd hear. He frowned, leaning forward on his desk, resting his head on a hand. "Care to explain, Lieutenant?"

"Is that an order?"

"…No."

Archer nodded, thinking. For some reason, he always felt he had to obey—even when it wasn't an order. "It was Kimbley." He paused again, just thinking. That man, that damn madman. _His_ damn madman. "You remember Ishbal, we were close." Much closer than Roy would ever realize. "What he did was wrong—all of it, I know that. He never should have killed those officers. But the fact is he did. He's dead. He was my friend, just as Brigadier General Hughes was yours. I understand, better than you'll ever know, sir."

He knew there was something there that Archer wasn't telling him. Had Archer been in love with that _freak_, Kimbley? "I see."

"I spent seven years of my life in mourning for him." Archer's eyes finally snapped back up to meet Roy's gaze. "What good did it do me? Life is only worth living once, sir. There is nothing after this. Spending all your time pitying the dead won't get you anywhere. I'm sure you've already realized this."

"Yes…" It just sounded so good coming from those lips. "But what about you? You don't have anyone else you're seeing, do you?"

"Seeing? You make it sound like I date." Archer laughed dryly, resting an arm on the armrest and mirrored Roy's position. "I don't have time for anything outside this job. This job is my _life_, sir."

"That's a rather sad existence, isn't it?" Roy asked, getting up and walking around the desk to stand by Archer's side, watching as the other flinched away. "I'm not going to hurt you. Get up."

"That's an order, I take it." Archer mused, standing. There was about an inch or two in height difference, he hadn't noticed that before. "What do you want with me?" He asked, warily. He knew already, he knew what Roy wanted. He wanted what they hadn't finished.

"I want you, Lieutenant Colonel." Roy smirked softly, pulling the other forward and into a kiss, but keeping his hands more or less to himself. Archer was armed after all.

He didn't accept or reject the kiss at first. Archer really wasn't sure how to react to it. "I thought you just wanted something physical." He breathed as they parted. "Just physical… that's just sex."

"I'll make it as physical as you'll allow me."

"Is that a threat, sir?"

"Would you like it to be?"

The two resumed the kiss, ignoring whatever work they had to do, whatever needed attending to. It was just them, it was just what they wanted. In a flurry of movement, Roy shoved off everything on his desk while Archer stripped down. He couldn't believe he was giving in so easily. But the fact was he knew things between them would be strained. "Sir… this is just physical. Nothing more. It never will be."

"As you wish." Roy mused softly, digging through the desk drawer and coming up with a small bottle of lubricant. "And I'm prepared this time." He smiled lightly, pouring a generous amount of the lubricant into his hands, and working to warm it up before coating himself. "Ready?" He breathed heavily as he helped Archer get into position.

"I suppose so." Archer mused dryly, spreading his legs wider and gripping at the wooden desk, searching for some sort of leverage.

Roy didn't respond, but he did pull Archer forward, sliding inside past the tight ring of muscle and hissing softly. He watched the other squirm a little, noticing the Lieutenant Colonel's discomfort. "It only hurts the first time."

Archer ignored him and moved his hands up to Roy's shoulders instead, nails digging into flesh, and feeling a little sadistic spark of pleasure when he felt his nails pierce the skin. "G-get it over with then."

And Roy did. It didn't take long for them to cum, both were overwhelmed by the whole situation. After the action, Roy continued leaning over Archer, breathing heavily. "F-Frank…"

Icy eyes met obsidian as Archer finally glanced up at Roy. He hated that name, but Roy had used it… "Wh-what?"

He wasn't going to get a response though, for Roy leaned down and took the other's lips, firmly, but more real this time. More like a real kiss—not something sexual or sensual or anything like that. He didn't love Archer. He loved this.

But as they broke apart again, Archer couldn't even summon up the strength to ask why. Why had Roy kissed him like that? Physical! He shook his head and managed to sit up, biting his lip in pain. Dammit, it hurt!! "I… should get going, sir."

"Yes, I suppose we both should." It was past closing, all the other workers would be gone by now. Roy smiled softly and retrieved Archer's clothes for him, holding them out. "Thank you."

"For what?" Archer managed to get dressed, but he knew walking was going to hurt like a bitch.

"For agreeing to all this. I need someone now. Thanks." Roy smiled lightly and helped Archer to the door. Well, he did feel rather guilty about all this. "Goodbye, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow. Though don't hesitate to call in sick if your ass still hurts."

Archer just glared at him.


End file.
